


The Lamentation of Ashley Graham

by Anyonesguess



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Art History, Ashley gets to be a competent human person, Ashley is an Art History major, Au in which Ashley has a knife, But thats not as important in this one, Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Game: Resident Evil 4, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I like to keep things as close to cannon as possible, It's just Luis tho, Male-Female Friendship, One-Sided Attraction, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Plot, Resident Evil 4, She's also Bi, So is Leon, Whump, absolute mayhem, but with a few twists, eventual whump, hope ya'll enjoy my brand of crazy, poor leon's dumb as fuck, she will use it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18368132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyonesguess/pseuds/Anyonesguess
Summary: ABANDOND SORRYAshley Graham has lived her whole life as the perfect daughter. Now that she's been kidnapped, trapped in a foreign country with few options, she's ready to let all hell break loose. She can either choose to be a passive object in her own story, or take it by the hilt and prove that she's not nearly as meek as she might seem.(RE4 AU in which Ashley has a knife and WILL stab anyone who gets in her way, including Leon)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! RE4 is one of my fav games, but I hate how utterly powerless Ashley is, she's just kinda whiney and can't do anything. Like she can't even climb down a ladder by herself. I wanted to write a version of the game where Ashley is more of the protagonist, or kind of like a second character like Claire in RE2. My idea is that Ashley would play more stealth based, no guns, just a knife and very limited inventory space. So obvious cannon divergence here lol. 
> 
> I also wanted to give her something she's interested in, and like, a personality outside of whiney and kinda stuck up college student/princess, cause I love her and feel she deserved better. But idk, it might just be because I had a crush on her and love Art History lol. Anyway, Baisically I'm just rewriting RE4 but with some twists and turns. I might have a few chapters where we see things from Leon's perspective, because I think it would be fun to see the difference in how they think and react to things. 
> 
> Also don't worry, I'm still working on What We Find in the Rubble, I just like, really wanted to start working on this too lol! Hope ya'll enjoy, lemme know thoughts!! <3

Ashley swallowed the lump in her throat. It had taken a while, but she had finally shaken of the last of whatever it was they had drugged her with. Now that she was fully conscious she came to the realization she had no fucking clue where she was. 

Well, no, she knew where she was, she was lying on the floor of a storage room of some kind. She categorized the things she knew about it like it was an image ID; it was brick and wood, probably built at a minimum of 200-400 years ago, it smelled musty, like the things stored here had mildewed from negligence. She knew these things, but she didn’t know _where_ this room was. She blinked away any remaining grogginess, shaking her head as she stood slowly. She looked around, now having a better view. The sun was setting through the small glass window lit the room. She didn’t know how long she had been there, probably at least a day if the sun was setting. The last thing she could remember clearly was getting ready for her date Friday night. She didn’t remember ever arriving. She felt a little bad, her lips pouting. She hoped that Jess wouldn’t think Ashley had intentionally stood her up. She had liked Jess. 

She willed herself to focus, shaking the thoughts from her head. She needed to get out of here, where ever it was. She continued her survey, looking over the assorted shelves and barrels, spying a door just across from her. Quietly, she moved towards it, absentmindedly scratching at a spot on her neck. Her booted feet padded lightly on the stones, her heart rate picking up with each step. Shit. This was actually a bad idea? What were you supposed to do if you were kidnapped? No one had ever gone over this with her. Fuck, she could remember hundreds of facts about cave paintings, but not what you were supposed to do if someone locked you in a room. And damn, what a bitch move, five years of being the president’s daughter and not a single security threat. It wasn’t even something most people knew about at school. She liked her privacy, using her maiden name to stop anyone who might want to try to cozy up to her because of her standing, and her father had worked hard to keep her out of the headlines. She herself had too, really. The date had been a bit of a rash decision. It wasn’t the sort her parents, or anyone, could know about. She hadn’t told anyone other than Jess, not even her roommate. Whoever had found out had done a damn good job. She went to great lengths to keep her secrets. 

Still in thought, she brought her hand to the door. Testing it slowly. She shook her head, baffled. It wasn’t even locked. She mulled it over. It would be so easy to just leave with the door unlocked. She could get out explore, maybe find someone who could help her. They obviously thought she was going to wait quietly, sit pretty and be a perfect little hostage. She felt a rising wave of rebellious fire, something she had quelled in her teens, and was finding harder and harder to smother. Fuck it. She’d played perfect for her whole life, she felt it was time she raised a little hell. Especially for whatever assholes had decided to ruin her first rea date with a cute girl. She pulled the door open, still slowly, hoping no one was waiting to shoot her. Maybe it was a fool hardy decision, but she was tired of waiting. 

The Barrel of a gun was not waiting for her when the door was fully open, only metal bars on either side of a matroneum. Interesting. She seemed to be in a church. Stepping out into the small walkway and looking down confirmed her suspicion. It had a romantic air to it, old and decrepit. There were tapestries hanging down above torches, pews evenly spaced out through the aisles. It looked like a regular basilica, though it seemed to lack transepts. Not unusual per say, but a notable feature of something that seemed to be modeled after traditional Christian design. Maybe she was in Italy? No, that felt wrong. She thought she remembered someone speaking Spanish in the fog of her memories. Maybe Mexico or the southern US? Hopefully there should be someone who spoke English. She silently cursed herself for taking French instead of Spanish. She’d only done it because she had had a crush on the French ambassador’s daughter. 

She kept looking, hoping for more clues to her location. In the apse was an altar, actually multiple alters, one in the center then two on either side, all three decorated with altar furniture. Above, in place of a cross or crucifix was a symbol on the wall. It looked like it was stained glass, but it seemed to be made of light. She could tell from the way the colors layered it was RGB, which was interesting for something so old. The shape it formed was odd too. It was shaped almost like a cross, but not quite. It was almost like an insect, a dragonfly maybe. She racked her brain trying to come up with any information on the symbol, but she came up empty. Maybe it was a symbol for a saint? While she had studied most of the major art eras, her main area of interest was prehistoric and Aegean, not Christian. It didn’t matter though, her art historian brain itched to take a closer look at the architecture, to parse out the secrets of the people who had made it. She shook her head, she needed to get out of here, not study the scenery. 

She looked around again, seeing only two real options since the walkway on either side of the matroneum were blocked off. She weighed her options. She could either go back into the room she had just left and wait for someone to come and do something to her or jump over the banister and make her way out of here herself. 

She chose the latter. 

It was a good ten to twelve feet, bus she clung to the banister, holding tight to the decorative filigree as she climbed, cautious. She came to a tapestry, gripping it firmly as she slid down. However, the tapestry was old, and moth eaten as the rest of the poor building, far too worn to hold her weight. She heard the old textiles tear, her heart breaking for the cloth and the stories it could tell her, then realizing she was still eight feet off the ground. She yelped, arms flailing as she tried to grab hold of something, anything as the cloth tore away from the wall. She plummeted, her arms tangled in the fabric as she landed hard on her back. The wind was knocked out of her and she wheezed, trying desperately to breathe. She sat up slowly, feeling her body for anything seriously wrong. Her back had taken the brunt of it, sore and bruising, which, while not great, she figured it was better than her head. She coughed as she sat up but didn’t feel anything else wrong/ Hopefully it would just be the bruise. 

She let herself take a moment before standing fully, hearing the thunder crack outside before she heard the patter of rain on the probably wave tiled roof. She sighed, pulling her cardigan off her shoulders and slipping it on. She wished she had a proper coat. She glanced around, eyes drawn to the altar. Yet again, a part of her wanted to rush up and study the items placed there, but she knew she needed to get out of here. She brushed her skirt off and let herself feel a pang of guilt for the ruined tapestry. What would her professors think? Ruining a perfectly good piece in Situ. If anyone found out about this her career would be ruined before she could even start it. 

She turned, spying a door. She smiled triumphantly, running to it. She listened through the thick wood, trying to see if she could hear anyone over the rain. It was coming down hard, masking anything that might have been. She tried pushing the door open, but it didn’t budge. Locked. She pouted, looking around for another means of escape. She spied a window, overlooking a small court yard. The ground was a few feet, maybe six or so below the window. She chewed the inside of her cheek, scratching at her neck again as she thought. She looked around for something she could smash the window with, spying a plank of wood at the end of the side aisle she stood in. She ran over, grasping it. It felt weak, moldy. It would probably only last for a single swing. She would have to make it count. She took a breath in and let it out, readying the wood like a bat. She hoped the sound of the shattering glass would be masked by the rain. 

She swung her newfound weapon, the glass shattering outward as the wooden plank all but disintegrated in her hand. Despite it, she smiled, looking down into the rain. She didn’t see anyone, so she climbed over the edge, landing on the stone with a huff and a splash. As she stood, she was already nearly soaked to the bone, trails of water streaming down her face, her hair sticking limply to her forehead and cheeks. She sputtered, wiping it from her eyes. She swallowed, the cold of the rain shocking her back into reality. She suddenly realized that what she had just done was probably a very, very dumb move. But she couldn’t stand waiting in that room, couldn’t stand feeling helpless and weak. Even now, she felt anxious, wanting something she could use to defend herself if she had too. She reached down to the ground, looking for the longest and sturdiest piece of glass she could find. She gripped one, feeling it bite into her palm as she stood. She hoped she looked more badass than she felt. She probably looked like a drowned rat cornered in a kitchen. 

She took another breath, willing her hands to stop shaking as she walked cautiously to the courtyard, the slap-slap of her feet in the puddles the only sounds outside the wails of the rain. The courtyard door was locked, but this time from the inside. She twisted the nob and began slowly opening it. She couldn’t see very far ahead as her amber eyes searched for anything she should be wary of. Her breathing hitched as she spotted torches bobbing in the distance. She doubted they would be friendly. She gripped her makeshift weapon tighter, ignoring the blood she felt mixing with the rain, making her palm slick. She could worry about it later. She wanted to get as far away from here as possible 

She stuck to the shadows as much as possible, unsure where exactly she wanted to go, but deciding to head the opposite direction from the torches. She quietly moved along the brick wall, following it until she found a bridge. She swore quietly as she watched a figure quickly making its way towards her. It didn’t have a torch, but she didn’t like how intently it was moving, making a beeline for her direction. She doubted they could see her, she could barely make them out with her well trained eye for detail, but still. She ducked back the way she came, moving towards the graveyard in hopes she could use the headstones as a hiding place. If she was having this much trouble seeing in the rain, whoever might be trying to find her would hopefully have an equal amount, even with the torches. She wondered briefly why they were using torches instead of flashlights, but honestly, what did it matter if she had been kidnapped by the god damned renaissances festival? Bad lighting just meant more places for her to hide. She crouched behind a headstone, the grass squashing uncomfortably under her. She willed it to be quieter, also wishing she had been wearing pants. It was uncomfortable against her legs. She began moving to the next grave stone when she heard gunshots. Her heart skipped a beat as she retreated back to the same gravestone, pulling her knees to her chest and covering her mouth lest she make a noise, hoping it would muffle her incredibly loud, anxious breathing. She heard snarling, and yet more gunshots, loud and cross BANGS! She glanced out from behind the headstone. In the distance, by the bridge, she could see a figure, possibly the same one from before, fighting off what looked like… dogs? They looked wrong, moving in a strange, jarring manner. They had multiple tongues coming from their mouths and the sounds they made… It left her colder than the rain. She heard two more gunshots, the pained whines and thuds of the dogs, then the precise, even foot fall in the mud. She watched the figure move towards the alcove of the church door. There was a torch there, giving her a better sense of the figure. It looked like a man, broad shouldered and muscular, wearing a drenched black short sleeved shirt and a chest holster. He reached into his pocket, popping something into the door and swinging it open. 

She swallowed. Maybe she should have just stayed where she was. She didn’t know who he was working for, but he stuck out, like seeing someone paint Madonna into The Night Watch. She watched him walk in, still mulling over if she should approach him when she heard people yelling. It was definitely Spanish. She ducked back down, cowering behind the gravestones as she watched the torchlights bob up and down towards the church. She hoped she was well hidden enough that they wouldn’t notice her. 

She waited a moment, then another, staying as still as she could for what felt like eternity. She glanced back eventually, watching as the lights came to a stop, positioned just so, as though waiting for further orders. She took the opportunity, dashing to the next gravestone, then the next. She didn’t look back, hoping they would be distracted with whatever they were doing and leave her alone. She held tight to her glass blade despite the pain. It brought her only mild relief, like it gave her some semblance of agency. An explosion came from behind her, and she dropped to the ground, covering the back of her head. Her heart rate skyrocketed, overbearing fear freezing her in place. After a few seconds she was able to get her body back under control. She sat up, still shaking uncontrollably, from adrenaline and cold now that she was covered in mud. She looked back, her knees to weak to stand, afraid someone would spot her. They seemed too distracted, the crowd of torch bearers waging war against the man she had seen. The people moved sluggishly, rhythmically like they were in trance. Some of them had scarves or something similar waving about in the wind, but something about it felt too organic, too sharp. She watched muzzle fire and torches dance as the man who didn’t match made quick work of them. She was still afraid, of both of groups. He finished off the last, taking another shot at the persons head for good measure. She could hear him breathing heavily, steady, but rough from exertion. She crawled her way back behind the grave stone, keeping a wary eye on him as he began running down the path just outside of the grave yard. She stayed hidden, doing her best to stay silent, not moving in fear she would draw any of his attention. She readied her glass shard as he neared, the footsteps coming closer. She lay in wait, ready to strike without warning like a snake you’ve stepped on by mistake. And boy did whoever stepped on her make a huge fucking mistake. She would make sure of it, no matter how afraid she was. 

“Ashley?” The man hissed, low but desperate. 

He knew her name. That didn’t necessarily mean anything good for her, but his voice had a midwestern accent. If it was fake, it was incredibly convincing. 

She gazed at him from the grave stone, barley a yard away. He was turned, his back towards her. He hadn’t noticed her then. She swallowed. Steeling herself. 

As quietly as she could, and hoping the rain would mask her movements, she inched closer to him, crouched down, her glass ready. He had pulled out a device of some sort, fiddling with it. He was distracted enough that with the rain, he didn’t notice her. She rose up from the ground, pressing the glass shard up against his back. He visibly stiffened, his head snapping up from the device. 

“Don’t move.” Her voice was not nearly as harsh and commanding as she wanted, it quaked with terror, a sharp pitched squeal more than anything. She hoped he would take her seriously, though if a huge crowd of people were no match for him, she didn’t feel she stood much of a chance. 

He didn’t try anything, instead raising his hands to show he didn’t plan too. He glanced over his shoulder, long wet bangs flopping to the side as he moved his head. 

“Ashley? That you?” He said it softly, as though trying to calm her. 

“Who are you?” She asked, her hands shaking as she pushed the shard harder against him. Not enough to break skin or cloth, just enough to let him know she meant it. She felt the blood in her palm begin slipping down her arm to her elbow under her cardigan. It seeped through the thin cloth, dripping to the ground. Tears of pain bit at her eyes like the glass in her hand, but she ignored them, her focus on trying to seem threatening. 

“My name’s Leon. I’m here under the president’s orders to rescue you.” 

She faltered, easing the pressure of the glass against his back. 

“My father?” 

He nodded. “That’s right. And I need to get you out of here. Mind putting that away?” 

She lowered the glass and he turned to face her. He was young looking, older than her, but still young enough for her to question why her father sent him. Maybe he just had a young face. And she did just watch him kill a huge group of people. Of god. She felt numb, her stomach churning angrily. She had just watched him kill a huge group of people. 

He had a wry smile on his face, which quickly turned to a look of concern as he saw the blood dripping from her hand and the glass to the ground. 

“You’re bleeding” 

She lifted her hand, looking at it blankly, still thinking about all those people. She released her grip on the glass and it fell to the ground, bloodied. The slice across her palm didn’t look deep but it burned around the numbed, blood leaking out lazily. 

His eyes widened as he looked at the glass, realizing what he had been threatened with. “Was that glass from the window in the church? Did you—Did you jump out the window?” 

She nodded dumbly. Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, all those people. Dead. 

He whistled, either not noticing her shock or trying to ease it, “Damn, a girl after my own heart.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked away, not wanting him to touch her. She pulled her injured hand close to her chest, clutching it protectively. Her eyes were wide, and her thoughts raced, his sudden movement snapping her out of her sluggish state. 

“Woah, easy. I just wanna look at it. We need to bandage it.” He held his hand out, giving her a reassuring look. 

He was right, they did but her heart raced. He said her father had sent him, but how could she know it was the truth? She didn’t really have any other options at the moment though, and while his kindness could be a ruse, it felt genuine. Tentatively, as though afraid he would snatch her wrist and drag her back into the church, she placed her hand in his, palm facing the rain. He led her over to a shed nearby, never gripping her hand. It was dark inside, but she could still see well enough. He looked down at her hand, gently feeling the wound. She flinched, as he touched it, but didn’t pull her hand back. His eyes shot up to her, checking to see if she was okay. She looked away, embarrassed by her reaction. He began pulling first aid supplies from his pack, he wiped the cut down with gauze, clearing away the water, blood, and mud, though the blood continued flowing even after he was finished. 

“This is gonna sting” He said, not giving her any time to process before he sprayed the wound with disinfectant. She hissed, squeezing her eyes shut as new tears prickled the corners. He gently placed fresh gauze across it, then started wrapping it firmly. 

“I gotta say, that was pretty brave, jumping out a window.” She blushed slightly at the compliment. “Pretty stupid too.” He could hear his playful smile. 

Now she looked at him, annoyance flashing across her face. “I didn’t really see any other choice. It was either that or stay in the room they locked me in.” She paused, looking down as he finished wrapping her hand. “I didn’t want to do that.” Her voice was barley a whisper, still fearful about whatever they had planned for her. 

He patted her arm, putting the supplies away. “Well, you’re with me now. You shouldn’t have to worry too much. I’ll protect you. There’s a helicopter waiting for us on the other side of the village. We should only be here for another, hmm, forty-five minutes tops.” 

She swallowed. While she appreciated his reassuring presence, someone there to protect her, who seemed to know what he was doing, she wasn’t happy about the lack of a way to protect herself. What if they were separated? What if he was distracted firing at something else and someone took the chance to grab her? No, she wasn’t okay with it, with being defenseless. She chewed the inside of her cheek, looking at the knife strapped to his chest, wishing she had one of her own. He seemed to notice her discomfort, reaching h=behind him and unhooking something from his belt. She flinched slightly at the movement, but he held out a sheathed hunting knife to her. 

“You seemed pretty confident with that piece of glass. How about a real knife? How’s this sound, I’ll give you my second knife, as long as you promise not to stab me again. Deal?” He gestured the hilt of the knife to her, beckoning her to take it. 

She didn’t hesitate, grasping it greedily like it was the only thing holding her to the earth. He held tight, eyebrow raised. “Deal? I don’t wanna get in a knife fight with my rescue-ee. That probably wouldn’t go over too well with the boss.” He winked. She wasn’t sure how he could be so jovial in this situation, but she found herself appreciating it, letting herself snort. Regardless of how afraid of him she was, his playful attitude eased the tension she felt. And offering a weapon to someone, even if only as a gesture of kindness, wasn’t the smartest thing to do to a hostage. Maybe she could trust him. 

“Deal.” She said 

He let go of the knife and she strapped it to her belt under her cardigan. She felt relief wash over her, an exhale of more tension. To have it against her back, there and ready should she need it, was a wonderful feeling, one she had never in her life expected to want. “Thank you.” She said softly. 

He shrugged. “No Problem. I always feel better when I have a knife. Now, come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He reached a hand out, letting her decide if she wanted to take it. She did, and he pulled her back out into the rain, thunder crackling in the distance as they made their way through the night air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I hope ya'll are ready! I'm having a lot of fun with this fic lol, I hope you guys are enjoying it!!

Ashley leaned against a table in the small building the trap door had led them into, catching her breath. Her chest ached from the exertion of running, more so than she had expected. She wasn’t unfit, she went on regular runs or walks every day, but something about this ache felt wrong, it wasn’t the almost pleasant one she had grown accustomed too after a run. It was like her heart and lungs had lost the rhythm, pounding on the offbeat instead. She coughed into her hand, a harsh bark. Leon looked worried from where he was standing with his handgun ready at the door. 

“You okay?” His voice was tense, sounding nervous. No, more than nervous, he almost sounded afraid. She didn’t let herself linger on why, instead raising a hand to wave off his question. 

“I think I’m okay, I might be a bit dehydrated.” She said, trying to find a reason for why her ailment. Honestly, there was a pretty good chance she actually was dehydrated, at least a little. She didn’t know how long she had been here or when she had last drunk anything. She could definitely feel the telltale pangs of hunger chewing at her stomach. 

His expression softened, pulling a canteen from his belt and handing it to her. 

“Small sips. We can go when you’re ready, I’ll hold the door.” 

She took it, again immensely grateful. Any other situation, she wouldn’t have even given a second thought to someone giving her water, it would have just been common curtesy, or she would have just gotten it herself, but here and now it was an act of kindness she didn’t know how to thank, didn’t know if she could thank. With this and the knife, her original wariness of him had started to fade, though a part of her still held tight to the paranoia. She wasn’t even sure why, he had at this point proved himself an ally, maybe even a friend. If he had wanted to keep her here, he would have tried to keep her weak, not give her water and a weapon. She pondered it as she sipped the water, the fluids and rest eventually giving her chest enough time to calm. It still felt somehow wrong, but less so than before, it was a manageable ache now. Out of the corner of her eye she could still see him giving her concerned glances. Something about the look in his eyes told a different story, one she couldn’t quite parse out, much like the way his voice hadn’t sounded entirely honest. 

She did her best not to let him know she was aware of it, whatever it may have been, and tried her best not to stare at him in return. She didn’t often feel attraction for men, but even she had to admit he was more than a little hot. Those brooding, icy blue eyes, the long lashes, the soft looks he had given her. That wry smile and wit. His hair had dried somewhat in the tunnel, revealing itself to be a sandy blond, darkened at the roots, probably dyed. It looked feather fine and she couldn’t imagine it as anything other than satiny to the touch. And that wasn’t even to mention his body, all wiry muscle, lithe like a cat, but she had no doubt he could lift her up with nearly no effort. 

“You ready?” 

She blushed, breaking from her thoughts as she realized she had been staring. 

“Y-yeah.” She stammered, standing too quickly to feign innocence. 

He didn’t comment, letting her hold on to some dignity as he readied himself at the door once more, gesturing for her to move behind him. He turned, looking her in the eye with a serious expression, a change from the mostly easy-going attitude he had put on thus far. 

“Alright. I don’t know whats going to be out there but stay right next to me. Do exactly what I say, no matter what, and if someone tries to grab you, scream like hell. It’s almost a straight shot from here to the other gate, but there could be a lot of bodies in the way. We gotta be fast.” 

She nodded, and his hand reached for the doorknob. Her own hand flitted to the knife hilt at the small of her back, ready to pull it if she needed it. He pushed the door open slowly, looking both ways before darting out into the rain, her following close behind. 

It was dark, and much as before the rain made it nearly impossible to see properly even a few feet ahead. She squinted, hearing sounds but being unable to determine their location as the heavy fall of the rain disoriented her. Part of her wanted to grab ahold of Leon’s shirt, like a toddler afraid of getting lost in the store. She resisted, mostly out of embarrassment at the idea. She was a twenty-year-old woman, not a toddler. 

She was so lost in thought she didn’t see the pitchfork until it went right past her head, grazing her ear. 

She screamed, ducking away as Leon fired at the man who had nearly skewered her. He shots hit him right in the face, one, two, three. He still didn’t go down. One more, and his head exploded, Ashley crying out in shock and horror as suddenly, pus and mucus exploded from the neck stump, the body still moving forward. A huge, disfigured mound of flesh, eyes and trails of viscera emerged from the neck, the bodies arms dangling at the side as a tentacle with a razor-sharp claw flung around, nearly hitting her as she dashed back behind Leon. He didn’t even flinch as he took four more shots, the fleshy mound falling to pieces and the body falling to the ground, a sickening, squishy thud as it landed in the mud. 

Leon grabbed hold of her arm as she stared down at the body, shell shocked. He dragged her away, not letting go. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen death before, even seen gore, but it had been in a controlled, cerebral environment, a morgue with her artists physiology class. She didn’t consider herself squeamish, but what she had just born witness too, that was impossibly, an affront to biology. It left her shaken. She glanced back behind them, hearing the sounds of more of those people, if they could even be called that now with what she had just seen. There was another sound too, harder to pick out of the rain, something like an engine or a motor. 

She was pulled from the thought by Leon jerking to a stop, a click, a fleshy clang, then his yelp of pain as a bear trap smashed around his leg. She screeched in surprise, backing up so quickly she nearly fell in the mud. He grabbed her arm despite the obvious pain she was in, keeping her upright. 

“Don’t move!” he yelled through stilted breaths, his face taught from the pain. “There might be others. Gimme a second, I can get out of it.” 

He began prying the teeth apart as Ashley pulled the knife from her belt, preparing herself for whatever might come. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she had a weapon and she could at least try to protect him, as best she could. Her hands trembled, her chest ached as she took in too quick breaths, eyes darting around as she heard the creatures drawing near. She didn’t have to wait long, as a man with a chainsaw flew out of the darkness, waving it at her. 

He was huge, face covered with a sack, a hole revealing only one part of his face, a wide animalistic eye staring her down. She froze, the sound of the chainsaw leaving her empty as the rain pounded down. He was nearly on her now, and she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, only aware of the overwhelming stimuli, the sound of the engine, the smell of gas, the hot breath through the bag as he prepared to swing the saw down on her, destroying her. She was going to die. 

“Ashley! Move!” 

Two shots sounded, hitting the thing in the head and waking her from her fear induced stupor. She screamed, ducking away and running, leaping over a small fence. She ducked down, cowering. She couldn’t get her breathing under control, her whole-body trembling as she struggled to keep her grip on the knife. A lot of good it had done when she had frozen up like that in the face of an attacker. She shut her eyes, willing the last of the muddied panic to leave, letting her clear her head. She looked over the fence, expecting to see It following her, but no. It had turned its sight to much easier prey. 

Leon’s eyes were wide enough that she could see them even in the dark rain. He pulled at his leg, desperately trying to free it before giving up and firing before the gun clicked out. 

“Shit!” She heard, as the chainsaw wielding nightmare began running at Leon with vicious glee. Ashley didn’t even think, grabbing the closest object and hurling it, 

“Hey!” She yelled, trying to grab its attention. 

It worked, the beast turning just in time for Ashley to hurl yet another brick, this time hitting him square in the face. He started stalking towards her as she realized she hadn’t entirely thought this plan through. 

She began running blindly, hearing Leon call after her but not having the time to process what he was saying. She dashed towards a building, a watch tower, climbing up the ladder into to the top, hoping she had distracted the thing long enough for Leon to free himself. She could hear the engine as the man followed her, and about half way up she came to yet another realization. There was probably only one way down. She came to the top, her fear confirmed. She looked down the trap door she had just come out of, watching as the chainsaw man began climbing the ladder, she looked around, spying a wooden chair. She grabbed it, dropping it down, hitting the man who brushed the impact off as though it were nothing. She swore under her breath rushing to the window and looking down, wondering if she could risk a jump. It was a dizzying 30 feet in the air, over triple the other heights she had fallen that night. There was no way she could handle a landing like that, not without something to break her fall. And there was no way back down the ladder, the Chainsaw man making his ever-slow ascension. So, this was it. Dan, she had really fucked this up. At least she would die knowing she had ever so briefly saved someone else, so perhaps it wouldn’t be in vain. She hoped that Leon wouldn’t get fired for her dying. It was kind of her own fault at this point. He couldn’t be blamed if she was a total idiot. 

She backed herself up against the widow, readying her knife though she knew it would be like a child waving a stick at a police dog. She refused to die without eliciting some mutilation of her own. She would not freeze this time, wouldn’t let herself die without claiming some reparations. She still shook with fear, but somehow felt at ease with it. She just hoped it would be quick, though she feared from the glint in the man’s eye it would not be. 

He arrived at the top, revving his chainsaw yet again, the motor screeching out like nails on a chalkboard. She swallowed, accepting it. 

“Ashley!?” A panicked voice came from below. She glanced back down spying Leon running haggardly, limping as he pulled his injured leg along. Oh, good, she thought numbly, He had gotten out. 

“Ashley!” He must have spotted her, because this was less of a question and more of a demand. 

“Leon!” She screamed, suddenly remembering what he had told her. 

He moved as quickly as he could to the tower, planting himself under neither her, arms outstretched. She glanced back up, the chainsaw man now fully ready and moving towards her with venomous intent. 

“Jump! I’ll catch you!” Leon yelled over the rain

Ashley Dodged the first swing of the chainsaw, quickly swinging her legs over the short wall, fingers slipping from the edge as she was in freefall. 

She shrieked as she fell, her brain not even registering it until she had landed in Leon’s arms with a huff. He groaned, going down to one knee as he caught her, setting her down gently as he stood, somewhat unsteadily. He didn’t say anything, just gripping her arm and doing his best to run, leading her back the way they had come. He stopped, looking over his shoulder as he pulled a machine gun off his back, pointing it at the ground and letting off a round of bullets. Three more bear traps snapped shut as the rounds hit them, the metal ringing. He grabbed her wrist again, moving as fast as he could with his injured leg, pushing the gate open as Ashley heard the sound of the engine start up again. Her knees nearly gave out from the terror, kneeling as she caught her breath, her entire body shaking. He shoved the gate closed, barring it and leaning against it heavily, thunking the back of his head against it as he gritted his teeth. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, panic and adrenaline making the words come out too fast, slurring together. Didn’t those things break bones? And why the hell did they have those just lying around their village? 

“That was a stupid risk, you should have stayed hidden, I would have been fine.” His voice shook, not nearly as much as hers, and she couldn’t tell if it was from fear, or pain, or anger, but it scared her. She tried to move back, falling to a seated position. 

“he—I—” She stammered, unsure what to say. She was silent, looking away as tears of fear and frustration welled in her eyes. It may have been dumb, but what else was she supposed to have done? Stood by and watched as he was cut in half? Then he’d be dead, and she would still be stuck here, to be killed by those things or worse. 

“He was going to kill you.” 

Her voice was small, afraid to acknowledge it out loud, to make it as real as it had been back there. She felt hollow, remembering him, trapped, cornered and looking death in the face with familiarity, almost like he had met it before. 

He swallowed hard, eyes downcast. 

“Yeah. Yeah, You’re right. He was.” He sighed. 

He looked back at her, pleading through the pain in his leg, “Just next time, don’t run off like that.” 

She nodded as he stood, grunting with the effort. His weight was firmly on his other leg as he gingerly tested it. 

“Is it broken?” 

He shook his head, “No, it wasn’t that strong. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” 

With that be began to move forward, the limp less pronounced as it had been but still present. She watched him walk towards her, offering a hand to help her up. She took it, but she felt it was mostly out of curtesy on his part. She did most of the work, only using him to steady herself slightly. He then brushed past her, taking the lead. As he did so, she glanced down at his leg, seeing a spot of blood where the trap had bitten into him. She wanted to say something, to protest that he was not nearly as fine as he wanted to pretend, but she feared he wouldn’t listen to her. He seemed to mostly just want to get out of here as soon as possible, his own health be damned. Though, if he was here to save her, passing out from blood loss wasn’t the best wat to do so. She eventually bit the bullet. 

“L-Leon?” 

“Yeah?” He didn’t look at her, just surveying their surroundings, a small empty farm, for the next threat. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

He blinked, then looked down at his leg as though he simply hadn’t noticed. He cursed under his breath, kneeling down to roll up the pant leg. The wound revealed, it was sickening. While the trap had not been strong enough to break bone, it was more than enough to tear through skin and cloth. The wound was reddened, angry and raw with jagged teeth marks streaking down his leg, torn from his panicked attempt to free himself. As he worked to clean it, blood sluggishly leaked out before being washed away with the rain. 

Ashley watched dumbly, unsure what to do. She didn’t know any first aid, she didn’t know how to fight, she barley knew anything practical unless somehow the key to her escape and their safety would involve art restoration or an obscure knowledge of Aegean ceramics. She just stood there uselessly as she worked, watching him calmly clean his wound, showing no reaction as the disinfectant contacted the open flesh. He finished, putting his supplies away and standing quickly. He moved to return to his place in front of her but paused. He put a hand on her shoulder, the sudden touch sending chills down her body. It was a gentle touch, almost unsure of how she would react, but she appreciated the contact nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Ashley. You were right, if you hadn’t distracted him, I would be dead right now. Thank you.” 

She blushed and the apology and thanks, again not sure what to say. She chastised herself for acting like a smitten school girl, her tongue tied and her stomach full of unwieldy butterflies. 

“You’re—welcome?” She said, not sure what the proper response to someone thanking you for saving their life. That wasn’t something anyone had ever taught her in school. He patted her shoulder a few times before pulling his hand away, seemingly satisfied with what she felt was an incredibly awkward interaction. Even though his hand had left her shoulder, she let her thoughts linger on it, trying not to let her self-jump to conclusions based on a simple touch of reassurance. 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

They had just crossed a bridge when they got the call. 

Leon slowed, pulling a phone like device from his pocket. Ashely came to a staggering stop behind him, her chest burning now. She did her best not to let her knees buckle from the pain, hoping her body would calm down. Jeez, what was wrong with her? She wasn’t a fitness nut by any means, but she wasn’t normally this feeble. She coughed harshly, wheezing as a woman’s voice came over the phone. 

“Leon, I have some bad news.” 

He frowned, “I’d rather not hear it.” 

“Well, unfortunately I have to tell you anyway. We lost contact with the helicopter, someone must have shot it down though we can’t determine who.” 

Ashley felt herself sinking. Was she really going to be stuck her for longer? They both needed medical attention at this point, with Leon’s leg and whatever the hell was wrong with her chest. This was definitely beyond dehydration. She briefly wondered if she had pneumonia, though she didn’t think that a typical symptom was the feeling of something clawing around in her chest. Maybe it was a really weird allergic reaction? She coughed again, a wet, painful bark as something dislodged into her hand. 

“Great…” Leon sighed, visibly deflating somewhat at the fact that they would have to keep going, even with his injury. 

“We’re prepping another chopper for you. Meanwhile, I want you to head towards the extraction point.” 

“Got it.” 

He ended the call, but Ashley was too distracted, instead her focus fixated entirely on what was in her hand. There was a spot of blood in her palm, deep and red and fresh. The sight of it made her sick to her stomach, horror spreading through her limbs, making her feel numb and cold. She wanted to open her mouth, to say something about it in desperation that maybe he had something that could fix it. Before she found her voice, he swore. She looked up from her hand, eyes following his, seeing another group of those people, the villagers walking out from behind an old cabin in front of them. Leon turned, ready to run back across the bridge but more shouts came from that direction too. Ashley turned, spying yet more villagers, their torches and pitchforks waving about as they began crossing.   
Despite the pain in her chest and the blood in her hand, Ashley stood fully, taking a step back from the bridge, her knees feeling week as she stared down the seemingly endless numbers. 

“What are we going to do, Leon?” She exclaimed, a sharp upturn of desperation overtaking the phrase. 

Leon clicked his tongue in frustration, “Hate to say it, but we’re sandwiched alright.” 

He looked back towards the cabin, pointing to it. “Quick, In there!” 

They ran, Ashley stumbling over her numb limbs as Leon pulled the door open. Ashley felt dizzy, disoriented and she turned away from the door, looking back at the bridge. She watched them, transfixed as they moved closer. Something in her wanted to join them, to _return_ to them, like she was meant to. Her body acted almost on its own, her empty limbs shuffling forwards slightly. Leon grabbed her arm, dragging her into the cabin. She blinked wide, staring at him blankly as he pushed the door closed, leaning on it. She shook her head, the dizziness not fading. Why on earth had she felt the urge to run, to join them? As with most things in this place, she didn’t get to think about it much longer before something else took her focus, an accented tenor calling out, 

“Leon!” 

Ashley turned to the voice, a wooden slat whizzing past her head. She stumbled backwards, nearly falling from the remaining dizziness before catching herself on a fireplace. Leon caught the piece of wood as Ashley studied the man who had thrown it. 

He stood up from where he was leaning against a boarded window, taking a few steps forward. Ashley frowned looking at him. He looked like someone who thought he was good with women, an arrogant air to him. He was trim with an even more slimming pale blue waistcoat and billowing sleeves, his hair shoulder length and dark brown shadowing an angular face. 

“Small world, eh?” 

He began sauntering, literally sauntering, over to them as Leon set to work barring the door, shoving the wooden slat into place. Ashley wasn’t sure if it would hold off the numbers they had seen, but it was something. 

The man was before her now, with an expression he must have thought was charming, but she mostly found to be sleazy, like the men in her classes who thought they could ask her out because she had smiled at them once, even though they had never spoken more than a brief hello. Her frown deepened, as she took a step back towards Leon. The man’s eyebrows raised at the movement, decidedly not looking at her eyes. 

“Well, I see that the president has equipped his daughter with _ballistics_ too.” He purred. 

Ashley scowled, her suspicions confirmed, she began stalking towards him in a manner she hoped was menacing, her fingers going to the knife at her belt. 

“How rude! And I don’t think there’s any relevance with my figure and my standing.” She bit out, “Who are you?” 

He shrugged mockingly, “Oh-ho! Excuse me _your highness,_ Perhaps the young lady might want to introduce herself before asking someone his name, he gestured to her in a joke of a bow, waiting for her response. 

Ashly looked to Leon, hoping he would come to her defense, but he was preoccupied, jogging around the room looking for any possible threats, ignoring the obvious one standing right in front of Ashley. She decided to take matters into her own hands. 

She pulled the knife, pointing it at him. His eyes widened, and he leaned back, obviously having not expecting her to be armed. Well, hopefully this would teach him not to stick his pretty little face in places it shouldn’t be. 

“And perhaps you should stop being a dick, if you want to keep yours.” She gave him an angry smile,

“Woah, Ashley!” Leon yelled, running between her and the man, “New part of the deal, no threatening allies with the knife!” 

She waited a moment, looking pointedly at the man behind Leon, just daring him to say something, to test her, before putting the knife away. 

“And her name is Ashley Graham. You seem to know the rest, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll watch what you say.” 

Leon, who had gone back to checking the room gave her a look but didn’t say anything. The man, who had still not given Ashley his name, turned to Leon, 

“is she… Well, you know?” He asked

Ashley swallowed. She didn’t know what was wrong with those people, but she knew what he was asking. 

Leon looked between them, shaking his head. 

“Don’t worry.” He gave her a smile, “She’s cool.” 

Despite herself and her annoyance at letting the man get away with those comments, she blushed, her stomach fluttering giddily at the compliment. She looked away, hoping neither would catch the damning pinkness in her cheeks. They seemed more interested in talking over her than in what she was doing though, so she felt she was probably safe. 

“Weeeeeell, never mind.” The man who still remained nameless, swaggered past her turning to look both of them over, his eyes now dark. “There’s supposed to be some obvious symptoms before you turn into one of them anyway.” 

The butterflies in Ashley’s stomach soured, turning to wasps. The pain in her chest and the blood on her hand suddenly became far to present in her mind. She had wanted to tell Leon, but with the way this man was acting, the way he spoke about it, perhaps it would be better to keep it hidden for the time being. They would be getting out of here soon, whoever rescued them could fix it right? 

She was broken from her thoughts by movement outside catching her eye. She gasped, pointing. 

“Look!” 

Outside the villagers were closing in, surrounding the house with their weapons and torches, obviously looking for any possible entrances, any weak points in their barricade. 

Ashley, upstairs!” 

Leon moved towards the window, gesturing for her to go. She caught his eye, giving him one pleading look, asking him to be careful without words before heading up. She would have argued, but with the ever-present pain in her chest, and the sheer number of them, she didn’t feel she would be especially useful. More likely than not, she would just get shot or stabbed or taken. She ran up the stairs as fast as her weary legs could take her. 

She might not be as useful as she wanted in a fight, but once upstairs, despite the numbness in her limbs, she got to work searching for anything of use. Gunfire sounded off downstairs as she survived the small loft. It was old, dusty, a smell of must emanating from the wood as the rain awoke the mold lingering there. Most of the things up there were furniture, the contour of tables, chairs, and beds with once white sheets covering them. She spied a cupboard, moving to pull it open, revealing two hand grenades, of all things, one green and one blue. She pocketed them, throwing the doors closed as her chest exploded. 

It didn’t really, but that’s what it felt like. She cried out, collapsing to her hands and knees. The sound of the gunfight downstairs faded in and out with her vision, darkness eating away at it like to much black ink on white paper. As ringing overtook her hearing, the world began spinning nauseatingly, beckoning her to fall into the vortex. No, no, no. She was not going to pass out. She swallowed hard, tasting copper at the back of her throat. Her chest burned as she felt something move under the skin, stretching and twisting it as something burrowed deeper, Ashly groaning from the pain. Her body was coated in a feverish sweat as she clawed at her chest, gripping the knitted fabric of her shirt. She had seen Aliens, her mind suddenly filled with images of chest busters, of things forcing themselves out of her body. She shook, then remembering that she had seen something similar in real life, not twenty minutes ago. Was she going to become one of those things, like the man downstairs had suggested? Was something going to burst from her chest, would she be a dead girl walking, a corpse? A corpse with a fucking meatball of flesh and eyes and blades where her head should be? No. Fucking NO, NO, she was NOT!

She pulled her hand back, pounding on her chest as she struggled to breathe through the pain. 

“Get out.” She uttered, a guttural, primal noise. “Get out!” She hit herself hard, the pain intensifying the pain locking her jaw in place, her teeth gritted, grinding in their own painful manner. Her body tensed, stuck in a convulsion. She made a sound at the back of her throat, something between a grunt and a scream, her throat burning as much as the rest of her, her face scrunched from the agony. She was paralyzed, falling to her back, arching as the pain laced through her body, snaking its way through her veins like poison. It was hell. 

Slowly, slowly, the pain eased, the tension in her body releasing, freeing her from the paralysis. She shook from the exhaustion of it, the intensity of it leaving her with nothing, already weak from a lack of food and water. Her breathing was labored as she lay there, unable to move. She didn’t think she could stand, even if she wanted to at this point, just letting herself rest as long as she could, trying to recover something, anything to let her get through the rest of the night. 

The fighting downstairs continued as Ashley held desperately to consciousness. Eventually it came to a stop, with a few stray gunshots going off like popcorn in the microwave. It then quieted, silent until she heard Leon’s voice. As much as she wanted to stay there on the floor, she began weakly lifting herself up, her arms not entirely wanting to hold her weight. It was slow going, but eventually she was on her feet, moving down the stairs. 

“—bridge I crossed to get here is out, so I guess we have no choice but to keep moving.” She heard Leon telling the other man as she came downstairs, her knuckled white as she held to the railing for support. 

She watched as the man began walking to the door, feeling his pockets as he went. He waved an arm to Leon,

“I forgot something. You guys go ahead.” He unbarred the door, pushing it open and waling out. Leon followed, though stayed inside, calling out into the night. 

“Luis?” 

Ashley huffed in annoyance. So, he had given Leon his name, but not her? Typical. 

Leon stood at the door, looking back and forth as though he had lost sight of Luis as Ashley made her way fully down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, still leaning on the railing as Leon turned back to her, letting the door fall closed. She gave him a curious look, but he just shrugged. 

“I’m sure we’ll run into him later. For now, let’s keep moving. Hopefully we’ll be hearing about the new chopper soon”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ashley, she doesn't get to take a depression nap like Leon did :(
> 
> hope ya'll enjoyed, lemme know thoughts!


End file.
